What's really killing you: Johnlock
by Steebe
Summary: Sherlock and John haven't seen each other in so long. This causes Sherlock more problems than he had expected. Just when he thought no one cared for him, an unexpected visitor comes to see him at the hospital. Minor language, Johnlock.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Is he going to be okay?" "John! John he isn't breathing." "He's losing too much blood what do we do?" "Only one thing left to do."

Going back to a couple months ago, five to be exact. Sherlock was in his flat doing his usual experiments using human fingers and fingernails. It has been a while since John, Mary, and the baby had visited him. He won't admit it, but he has been feeling lonely. That itself pissed him off. Of course, he did take this chance to get in touch with his homeless network and get stoned. "It just isn't the same." The solitary detective said out loud to no one in particular. He sat there in his dining room table, staring at his cigarette in one hand and a small slicing-knife in the other. He used to be desperate and longing for a case, but now he just wishes to have someone be with him.

Lestrade was too busy to even bother right now with all the paperwork and cases he was on. Molly was the only one who visited Sherlock every once in a while, but even Sherlock knew she was hurt every time she saw him in emotional pain. Mycroft would call everyday to check on his dear little brother to make sure he doesn't go insane from the silence in his flat. Anything and everything made Sherlock mad, depressed, laugh, and even cry in his flat. Soon, he began to have conversations with each of his different sides. "I don't need them. They're too stupid and dull for me anyways. They-they have a family now, how lovely. Haha and by lovely I mean worthless!" Sherlock walked around his flat scratching his curly raven colored head almost piercing his nails into his skull. He twitched from the pain, but continued to converse. "You're becoming just like him, Sherlock. You might as well live like them! Go ahead , show them how much better you are. That's right, YOU CAN'T! You're lonely and useless without that doctor aren't you? Pathetic." Sherlock now stared at himself in the bathroom mirror letting the hot water run and vapor cover some parts of the mirror and suffocating him at the same time. "I'm not weak, I'm not normal. I-I-I have a massive intellect. I don't even have friends, whose John? Haha Mary and Molly, who were they again? Oh I see, Mycroft must have just made them up." The water was now overflowing and burning on Sherlock's pale and skinny arms.

He didn't feel the pain, all the nicotine he's had made him go numb. His pale arms now turned red, and then skin had too drifted off with the flow. "You know you've changed now that you've been with those normal people. Admit it, Sherlock Holmes, YOU'VE BECOME DULL." Sherlock punched the mirror and had his fist there for a while. Red hot blood dripped from his fingers and arm down from the mirror to the sink turning the clear boiling water into a deep shade of red. "Shut up. Just shut up" At that moment, there was a loud sound at the door, but Sherlock didn't move from where he was. A short figure stood behind him and grabbed a hold of him tight and moved him away from the shattered mirror and running water. The door was locked so the man had to kick it down. "Sherlock, can you hear me? Are you in any serious pain? Just hang on, you're gonna be alright, kay? I'm right here, say anything at anytime." That voice sounded familiar to the hurt detective, but he didn't want to make any assumptions yet until he was certain. "Who're..you?" Words barely came out of his mouth but were enough for them to be heard. "It's okay Sherlock. Mary and I are here. Mrs. Hudson is here as well. You're brother told us to come. Do you remember me? It's John." With that, Sherlock was relieved of his doubts and fell asleep.

When Sherlock awoke from his slumber, he was at an unknown place. After using his deduction skills, he realized he was at St. Bart's hospital. His head hurt like hell and his arms and right hand were wrapped in bandages that were already stained with blood. He sat up to help him remember what had happened previously from arriving here. He tried and tried but couldn't remember. A knock at the door interrupted his thinking, and Lestrade came in. "Morning, or afternoon now." Sherlock was surprised to know how long he had been out. Last time he remembers being sober, it was almost midnight. "Lestrade, how long have I been asleep?" Asked a groggy Sherlock. " Three days, well four now. I only heard about you yesterday, but I was able to visit you today. I'm sure you've had other visitors." Sherlock looked around to find out for himself.

Next to him was a table with tulips and a note that was from Molly. Tulips were watered every day for the past three days. Bellow was a gift bag that contained scented candles and a "get well soon" teddy bear along with a card signed by the Watson family. Judging by the appearance, it was knocked down quite a lot by a small being, probably the baby trying to walk. The card was added recently and didn't come with the package itself at first. The bear was chosen by Mary and the child, John wrote in the card because of his handwriting. He received this about two days ago. The chair on his left was still warm and it seemed like someone was sitting there all night for the three nights he was out and this morning as well. The fact that only the tip of the chair was sat on and no back was touching, Sherlock assumed it could only be Mycroft to do such a thing. "Only everyone has visited." Sherlock mumbled. "May I ask what happened to you?" Sherlock stayed silent and didn't look like he was going to say anything soon, mostly because he still didn't remember what happened to his composure. "Well, it's fine if you don't want to talk about it or don't remember, but next time you're feeling down, don't hesitate to call me. I may seem like I'm busy, but I can always be there when you need help." Lestrade pulled the chair close to him and sat down next to Sherlock. "What're you doing?" Sherlock looked at him in confusion and only hurt his head more trying to move. "Sitting obviously. I'm not gonna leave you alone after you just woke up. I'm here if you're hungry or anything." Sherlock felt somewhat happy to finally have someone by his side. It's been awhile since he'd had that feeling. Lestrade even helped him change his bloody bandages and eat his food. At about nine o'clock at night, Sherlock was getting tired. Lestrade helped him lay down slowly so that his headache wouldn't be too strong. After that, he covered him and sat down as he waited for him to close his eyes. Sherlock was glad Lestrade was there, but secretly wished it could've been John instead.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After a day more from spending his time at the hospital, Sherlock was finally released and sent home by Molly. The whole car ride mostly consisted of her scolding Sherlock and telling him to take better care of himself. Usually Sherlock would ignore her and answer her in responses she wanted to hear. This time, however, was different. Sherlock actually wanted to listen to her and answered her sincerely. Molly noticed this too and was a bit worried. "Sherlock, are you really alright?" Molly asked as she nervously put her hand near his to make sure he didn't have a fever or anything. Sherlock noticed her hand and held it tight, surprising Molly. "I'm not sure, I'm just tired and confused at the moment Molly." Sherlock kept staring in front while Molly looked at his dark circles under his eyes and the bandages covering his skinny arms that seemed to be trembling from the pain. After arriving at Baker street, Sherlock paid the cab and entered his flat. Before opening the door, he noticed the door handle was straightened and knew for a fact who was visiting. He stumbled his way up the stairs and made his way to his flat where his older brother was waiting for him along with John. Sherlock made his way to the couch and as he tripped John rushed his way toward him, but Sherlock gently pushed him away and picked himself up and sat down. "What's wrong Sherlock? You're not usually like this." John said still standing by in case Sherlock might need some assistance. "Funny how you can say that, ." Mycroft said while walking behind him looking around the room. "I'm sorry what?" John turned around to see him grinning at him. "It's just like you heard. It's been three weeks, five days, and two hours since you last saw him here in his flat. A lot can change in that much time, as you can see." Sherlock stayed silent to see where this was going. His memory was coming back to him as well but only fragments. "I know I haven't been able to visit, but I told Sherlock why and he didn't even complain once to me about my circumstances." John looked at Sherlock and saw how awful his appearance was at the moment. He looked like a damn zombie he thought and felt guilty for some reason. "I-I mean I have a six month old daughter and Mary can't always handle her alone. On top of that I have my job in order to maintain my family economically and-" "Yes yes we know that already doctor. However, Mary has told you multiple times that handling children is not a problem at all for her. She also has told you to visit Sherlock at least on the weekends. Your job consists of you working from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon. It's not like you get emergency calls anyways, so what is it that you really want to tell Sherlock?" This time Sherlock figured out what was really happening, and John was getting nervous and refused to look at him at the moment. "I understand." Sherlock whispered as he stood up. "You understand what? That I'm a total dick for not wanting to see you after having a family? That I don't want you in my life thinking that you are dangerous to them? Tell me exactly what you understand, Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock approached him slowly and looked at him with no feelings in his eyes. John recognized this look. It was the look Sherlock would give to strangers, to people he didn't care about, to people like Moriarty perhaps" "It's okay, Dr. Watson. I understand how you must feel with a sociopath as myself in the presence of your dear family. You don't need to apologize it's a natural father and husband instinct, nothing to be ashamed of really. If that is all, I think it's best if you leave." Sherlock walked shakily to his room and John was about to call out to him, but Sherlock closed the door before he could even speak. "Well then," Mycroft said, "I guess you can sleep tonight knowing a sociopath was caught today and won't be bothering you any longer. Have a good day Dr. Watson." Mycroft smiled at him and lead him to the door. John was angry, but he knew he had no room to say anything now and left. Mycroft locked the door and headed to Sherlock's room and opened his door. "Oh Sherly, I tried warning you about those normal people didn't I? I'm sorry you're what they're calling 'heart-broken'." Sherlock buried his face deeper into his pillow and said nothing. Mycroft sat next to him in his bed and attempted a gentle pat on Sherlock's back and thought it was unnecessary and pulled away. "Please," Sherlock said, "keep doing that." Mycroft sighed and continued patting him." Don't...don't cry Sherlock. What would mummy say if she saw you like this? I know it's hard for you, but drugs won't help you forever." Silence filled the room and Mycroft soon forgot he was patting Sherlock and became a normal thing for him. He let out a long sigh and turned to Sherlock with regretful eyes. " I never wanted to say this to you, because I thought that among us you'd be able to live a better 'normal life' than me. I guess now I have no choice because I can't see you like this." Sherlock raised his head with red eyes and tear stained cheek bones. "Do you want to work for me as my permanent full-time secretary?  
"It's been two months now since Sherlock said yes to his brother's offer. He emptied his flat to move in with him as well. Mrs. Hudson was too hurt to let someone else move in to where Sherlock occupied and left that room alone. John visited every now and then hoping for Sherlock to come back, but never did. Mycroft hid that from Sherlock fearing that Sherlock might misinterpret that to meaning John is sorry and wants to be friends again. It was thanks to Sherlock's help that all the paper work has been finished early and quickly. Meanwhile, at the Yard's police station, Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson were just finishing up a case when Lestrade kept checking his phone throughout the whole thing. "May I ask what it is that you keep checking, sir?" Asked Donovan curiously. "I bet it's Sherlock, right? I haven't heard from him in a while. He's solving cases from his flat isn't he?" Anderson finished his work and went up to them. "Well, yes. Sherlock has been helping us when we ask him to with no complains or interferences." Lestrade answered. "Then isn't that a good thing? That John guy finally put a leech on the freak." Donovan said. "That's the problem, it isn't John doing this. I'm afraid it's Mycroft." There was a brief silence among them and Anderson was the first to break it. "So does that mean that Sherlock isn't stable?" "Honestly, I don't know what it could mean. All I know is that I'm not just gonna stand here and do nothing about it. So I wait for him to text or call if anything is wrong." Donovan and Anderson looked at each other worried. "Sir, you went to visit him when he was at the hospital, correct?" Asked Donovan. "Yes." "Then maybe that was proof that what is happening to Sherlock could lead him there again or..." "Yes, I know sergeant. Which is why I want to be prepared before that happens to prevent it." With that, Lestrade leaves them behind.  
" At 221 B Baker street, John finds himself again on the door steps to Sherlock's old flat. He waits to see an empty flat behind that door, but maybe Sherlock would be there this time. As he was about to reach for the door handle, Mrs Hudson comes out of her flat and notices John. "Oh goodness, John how nice of you to come dearie. Did you need something?" "Hello Mrs. Hudson, I was just uh, well uh just passing through I guess." Mrs. Hudson looks upstairs and then back at John. "Oh John, I'm sorry but he still hasn't come back. I tried calling him but all he ever says is either 'I'm busy now' or 'hello Mrs. Hudson I'm hanging up now.' I know it's hard on you being his ex and such, but it's time for both of us to let him go." "Mrs. Hudson, I'm not in love with Sherlock. We're frie...we were best friends I guess." John looks at Sherlock's old door and walks down towards Mrs. Hudson. She then hugs him and offers him a cup of tea, but John refuses and leaves. He arrives at his flat where Mary and the baby were watching telly. Mary sees him come and offers him grapes. John takes some and kisses her forehead and the baby's as well. "So, how was Sherlock today?" John sat next to her and let out a sigh. "He's still not back huh?" Mary looked at him with a sad expression and the baby kept watching telly while trying to imitate doctor who lines. "I don't know what to do Mary. I've tried calling, but I only get Mycroft to answer and when Sherlock does answer he's always busy. I've gone with Greg and he said that Sherlock has helped with cases but never shows up personally. Mrs. Hudson says he doesn't come to his flat and her phone calls end up like mine. I think I went too far this time Mary." John buried his face in his hands. Mary hugged him and kissed his shoulder. John held her hand and tried to smile. "You are Sherlock's best friend, John. When you have a best friend you'll have your ups and downs. So don't give up now John. Sherlock would never give up on you, would he?" John turned towards Mary who was smiling with both her eyes and mouth. John started to have hope again and kissed Mary thinking the same way. "I won't give up on him either then."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sherlock was having the fifth anxiety attack this month. It wasn't something common among other people, but for the Holmes family it was. "I need some fresh new IVs and his pills. Bring me that air tank and put on his mask." Mycroft was working everyone to the bone in this situation. People with white coats and all those with black suits passed by Sherlock. He watched as all of the Holme's servants were working quickly in order not to displease Mycroft. He had forgotten that he had stopped breathing and stared at nothing, and for the first time with nothing on his mind. "Sir, sir he's not breathing anymore." A maid said looking at Sherlock and then at Mycroft. He noticed and went up to him pushing her away. "Sherlock don't do this, not now brother." Mycroft desperately put on his mask and soon Sherlock's lungs began to function again. Relieved, Mycroft and the rest returned to helping Sherlock. His phone kept going off with ring tones from messages and calls. Mycroft was getting irritated by the noise and went to go see who it was. Of course, it was none other than Greg Lestrade and John Watson. Sherlock was kind of stable now but unconscious so Mycroft took the liberty in answering for him. "Yes, hello?" He answered in a fake happy tone. "Hello, Mr. Holmes I would like to speak with Sherlock please. Is he alright?" Lestrade was the first one he called instead of John. "For now, yes it appears so. Anyways, he is taking a bit of a siesta at the moment, once he has woken up I shall inform him about your calling. Well, if that's all I guess I'll-" "WAIT! Mycroft wait." Mycroft was interrupted by Lestrade and was surprised about his energetic scream. "I'm sorry," Lestrade continued' "I know he's probably tired, but if you could only wake him now and I promise it won't be long." Mycroft looked at Sherlock who was sleeping peacefully now and let out a sigh. "What is it that is so urgent Greg?" Mycroft rubbed the middle of his eyes revealing that he was very tired and unsure of what to do. "It's just that, it's been awhile since I've actually heard his voice when I talk to him. All I want is to make sure for myself that he is fine." Mycroft stayed silent and had a serious expression on his face. "I see. He had an anxiety attack just now, so he's resting. Don't be alarmed, he managed to control it and I'm here, along with help, to care for him." There was a short breath of gasping on the other side of the phone line as Mycroft explained the situation.

Afterwards, Greg let out a long sigh followed by silence. "Alright, just please tell him to call me back once he wakes up." "I will." "Also...John is worried sick about him. Please let him talk to him too. I don't mind being the second one to talk to Sherlock, just let them talk." Mycroft didn't answer and hung up. He stared at the screen that read eleven missed calls from John and five missed texts from John. He decided to read the text messages before calling John.

First message read: Sherlock, I know I was a jerk last time we spoke face to face. But please allow me to apologize to you? I never wanted to hurt your feelings, or whatever you claim of having.

Second message: Sherlock please answer my calls. I know I was a big fat jerk, alright? But please don't ignore me.

Third message: Sherlock I'm begging you. Please answer my calls or texts. Are you alright? Are you eating and sleeping properly? I'm still here waiting at your flat even though it's empty.

Fourth message: Sherlock, I know I keep bothering you. I just won't give up on you so easily I guess. I'm here at your flat again. I spend the night here and let me just say first off that the floor is unexpectedly comfortable so don't worry, I'll wait however long I must for you.

Fifth message: Sherlock, I'm begging you right now. Come home. To , to Molly, to Greg, To Mary and our child. Come home to me Sherlock. I'm so sorry.

In the end, Mycroft hid the phone and gave Sherlock a new one with only two contact numbers. His and of course the one he uses at work. Sherlock didn't even ask, he was too numb from the sudden change in his life. He didn't even miss John anymore or Molly. His emotions were now completely gone. Mycroft had waited for this moment, though he didn't expect it to come so soon. It wasn't guilt that ran through the mind of Mycroft Holmes, nor was it pride. It was something far from those meaningless feelings. No, what Mycroft felt was regret. He knew it was for Sherlock's mental health, but he could've used other methods if only he could.

Five months had finally passed, Sherlock was working late on a case. He wasn't tired or anything so it wasn't too much of a big deal for him. Mycroft had already finished his work and decided to go check on his secretary. "Sherlock, you're still working on that last case? Come on you need to rest and save that energy for a real case." Mycroft said walking behind Sherlock to see what he was reading. "I know, I'm just not tired and I guess this will be a way to bore me. I'll go to bed soon, you can go before me." Sherlock had a deep and empty voice. It was depressing to hear, but he showed no signs of depression or having suicidal thoughts, Mycroft was grateful for that. He looked at him one last time and headed to his room. Sherlock put down the papers and stared out his window. It was pitch black out there but he still went out. He walked for many hours and finally reached his destination.

He found a wide open field where the wind was nice and cool. He lay there on the grassy ground and looked up at the night starry sky. It was a beautiful scene really. Millions upon trillions of white shiny dots filled the night sky. This was the only thing that made Sherlock smile since the day he left baker street. Every night, he would come out and find this special place of his. Everytime he would look up,he would imagine himself here with John laughing, smiling, and just enjoying the scenery together. "It's nice to dream, isn't it?" Sherlock thought outloud. Tears soon streamed down his cheek bones but he didn't make a sound. He just kept looking up at the beautiful night sky.

The next day, Sherlock didn't sleep at all but his appearance didn't reveal it at all. Mycroft wasn't suspicious and continued with his work. Just then, as Sherlock was heading up the stairs, he felt his heart beat loud and slow. Everything seemed to be in slow motion and when he tried to talk nothing would come out. Suddenly he saw the ground, and then the ceiling, back to the floor, and then the ceiling. This routine continued a couple of times until he finished with his face on the ground. He tried getting up, but no matter how hard he commanded his arms to move they refused. Red warm blood started oozing out of his mouth and running down his forehead. He felt no pain whatsoever. Just then, he saw a maid coming and she dropped the plates she was holding while rushing towards him. She shook him a little and started yelling for help. Sherlock passed out and woke up inside an ambulance with a stranger in his face while there was a conversation going on. "Is he going to be okay?" "John! John he isn't breathing." "He's losing too much blood what do we do?" "Only one thing left to do." Sherlock tried to move, but his body still refused to obey his commands. He felt a hand on top of his gripping tightly with a few tears landing on him. "Sherlock, please don't leave us. Not now, I still need to speak to you. I need to tell you how sorry I am." Sherlock saw a blurry vision of John next to him with Mycroft and a male nurse. "We're losing him, sir orders?" Sherlock could hear the sound of a flatline machine to his right. John's grip became tighter and soon everything became black. "..rlock...sherlock….SHERLOCK!" The sound of John's voice brought him back to life.

This time, he awoke in a hospital room. He looked around and saw that it was night time. Lestrade was sitting next to him on a chair to Sherlock's left side. He was asleep, but was able to hear Sherlock's movements and woke up immediately. "Sherlock, thank goodness you're alive!" Lestrade stood up and wet up to him to hug him. He was trembling and Sherlock used his deduction skills to figure out that his shakiness was from sudden relief and fear of having this be so surreal. Sherlock returned the hug which only caused Lestrade to hug tighter. Sherlock was just barely able to form a smile on his face to see his good friend again after so long. Lestrade wiped off a few tears of happiness that escaped and smiled back at Sherlock. "You had everyone worried. Why wouldn't you answer anyone's calls or texts. I understand you were busy, but surely anytime would have been nice Sherlock." Lestrade sat back down and looked at Sherlock who had carpet burns and bruises all over his body and partially his face. "Sorry, but listening to people I...knew to a close relationship would bring me to have second thoughts about working with my brother. I would be then considering to go back and hope that everything would be normal again. However, I can't just illusion myself to such pitiful ideas. I know what my choice was, so I couldn't just let you guys down." Sherlock looked down at his still bandaged arms from five months ago. They weren't fully healed yet from the burns he had.

Lestrade glared at Sherlock and went up to him and slapped him gently. "You are too late on saying you'll let us down. You, Sherlock Holmes, have exceeded our expectations of you every time. Today, for example, were dead for a straight ten minutes and then suddenly came back breathing again screaming…" Lestrade paused and blushed from both embarrassment and anger. "I was screaming what?" There was a long silence filling the room and Lestrade finally spoke up. "You said my name…...and John's as well." Lestrade looked down at his feet and his face was flushed in a deep bright red where even in the pitch black room they were in was noticeable. "Sorry, if I would have known you didn't like a man yell out your name like that I wouldn't have said that. I deeply apologize for my abnormal behavior and-" "THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!" Lestrade looked at him in the eyes with a serious expression. "Greg?" Sherlock tried to figure out what was wrong with him but couldn't. "It's...it's obvious that you won't figure out my feelings. So I-I'll just have to show you.." Lestrade stared at Sherlock a bit longer and grabbed his shirt from his collar and pulled him in closer to himself, forcefully landing a kiss on his soft lips.

Author's Note:

Alright, before I get attacked by knives, guns, weasels and all that this is a Johnlock fanfic so don't worry I have something in mind for Lestrade kissing Sherlock all of a sudden. I would like to take this time to thank everyone who has read this. I know you all have better fan fictions to read and I'm happy you took some of your time to read mine so thank you very much. I will post the next chapter, which is the last chapter, tomorrow. Well that's it, have a wonderful day everyone.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note: So I had no idea on what the Watson baby's name was going to be so I'm using Britney so if anyone else had a different name in mind I'm sorry for ruining it like this. Anyways this is the last chapter and I won't be posting any new stories until I go back to school, probably but no promises. So without further ado, enjoy!

Sherlock quickly tried pushing Lestrade away, but he was too weak to move his arms and he just stood there in shock. Lestrade opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock and saw the fear and surprise shining in his beautiful ocean blue eyes. He backed away while both of them were panting hard. Sherlock refused to look at him and curled into a ball. "Sherlock, I didn't mean to…" Lestrade held out his arms to him expecting Sherlock to push him away, but instead threw himself into his arms and cried onto his chest. "Did.. did he tell you?" Sherlock whispered in between sobs. Lestrade clenched his fists and trembled while holding Sherlock in his arms. "He did didn't he Lestrade?" Now both were crying, except Lestrade had tears of guilt. "I'm sorry Sherlock, but you have to give up on John. I thought, this was the best way for you to live your life without romance." Sherlock raised his arms and tried hugging Lestrade as tightly as he could. "I know, but I'm sure it was harder for you since you really truly had those feelings towards 's alright, I forgive you Lestrade" At this moment, Lestrade could no longer cry silent tears and let out his voice finally. The sound of his heart-broken cries pierced into Sherlock's mind and heart. He had assumed that the reason Lestrade was always calling and texting more than John would be because he was more worried than him. He had a secret inside of him, and it only showed when he was with the person he least wanted to find out, which was Sherlock, the man he secretly loved. "I-I'm so sorry Sherlock. I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I'm sorry…." Lestrade held tight of Sherlock's cold and thin body carefully. Sherlock felt like crying as well as he imagined himself in Lestrade's place when John finds out about his feelings towards him. He also knew that if he had just accepted Lestrade's feelings halfheartedly, it would only hurt him more, and Sherlock couldn't live with hurting a very close friend to him again.

Sherlock allowed Lestrade to sleep next to him on the bed he was at the hospital as he cried himself to sleep. The next morning, Sherlock woke up alone in his hospital room. His eyes were swollen and still stung from last night's crying marathon. There was a knock on the door and Sherlock tried to act asleep knowing who it was knocking. "Oh dear, he's still sleeping. Should we come back later instead?" "No, you should probably get breakfast for you and Britney. I'll stay here until he wakes up" "Alright, do you want anything John?" "I'm good, thanks." The sound of the door closing and John getting closer to Sherlock sent goosebumps up to his neck. John stroked Sherlock's curly raven colored hair away from his bruised face. He traced the cut on his lips with his index finger. "Oh Sherlock, this...all of it, is my fault. I'm just sad that I couldn't apologize sooner to you." In Sherlock's mind was a screaming echo of "SHUT UP JOHN PLEASE," as he felt that he was hurting John the more he stayed with him. "I heard Lestrade was with you here all night. That fool doesn't know when to give up. He has a bunch of work on his desk, and even when I suggested of staying instead, he refused me before I even finished my sentence. I'll tell him your thanks for you. You weren't good at that huh? It's alright, I'm the same. Never grateful of what I have...until I lose it." Sherlock listened to each and every word coming out of John's mouth and only wished he could hold him. "Are you okay? I haven't seen you in five months, well I did see you at the ambulance car. But you were…" John hesitated to continue his phrase as he inhaled deeply, holding back tears. Sherlock was aware that his ten minute flat line damaged John emotionally. It was another death of him that John had to live through. Sherlock moaned as he tried to sit up, and as he did, he noticed something different in him. "Sherlock! Whoa careful, are you alright?" John went up to him to help and Sherlock was shocked to find out what was new about him from last night. "Whats wrong? Sherlock can you hear me? Do you know who I am?" Sherlock looked at John with wide eyes and wasn't at all prepared to say what he was about to tell him. "John...I…" Tears streamed down his cheek bones and John called a nurse. "What is it? What's hurting you right now?" The nurse came in with the doctor and Sherlock's hands went down to his knees and looked at them. "I...I can't feel them."  
Three weeks soon passed and Sherlock found all of his stuff back at his flat in Baker street. He recognized his old scent and man did he miss it. Mrs. Hudson had prepared him some tea and a welcome back cake. "Oh deary, we've missed you so much." Said Mrs. Hudson as she went up to him. "Sherlock, welcome home." Molly was sitting on the couch near the door and pushed his wheel chair inside. " Hey there, Sherlock." Lestrade came out from the kitchen and awkwardly waved at Sherlock who smiled and waved back at him. A small child then rushed by and hugged Sherlock's knees as she fell while giggling. Sherlock pulled her up and sat her down on his knees. "Unco Sher, wecom home!" Sherlock smiled and kissed her forehead. "Glad to be home, Britney." John and Mary stood in front of them smiling and holding each other's arms. It was a small and short party. Everyone soon left, Lestrade was the last one behind and paused right at the door before turning towards Sherlock. "Listen Sherlock, about what I said and did, I just wanted to say sorry and thanks for not hating me for it." Lestrade blushed as he said this and Sherlock could only smile and nod as he led him out. Mycroft was standing outside the door waiting for Sherlock. After Lestrade left he let himself in. "You're rather a tad late to the party." Sherlock said as he turned his wheel chair towards him. "Yes well, I like being fashionably late." Mycroft looked at him and wore a sad expression on his face. "Yes. The doctors said it would be temporarily if I have therapy sessions help me as well as patience, boring by the way. No need to get sentimental about it brother dear. "It's not that, what did you tell Lestrade?" Sherlock stayed quiet and sighed. "He's a good man, but he can do better than waste his time fooling around with a sociopath. Of course, I agreed to assist him in his necessities and as well in cases. I at least can do that. As for John, well, he has a family to take care of now." Sherlock looked out the window and stared at the passing people. After being gone from his flat for so long he liked seeing all these common things happening in Baker street. He saw as his group of friends were each going their separate ways and it made him smile."I realized that I am happy with everyone here with me, however not everyone can be happy with me forever. So I have decide to continue doing what I do best." "Oh, and what's that?" Sherlock turned around in his wheel chair and smiled at Mycroft sincerely and finally said, "Being Sherlock Holmes of 221 B Baker Street of course. The world's best detective and high-functioning sociopath."


End file.
